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. "I was raised on a
farm, ma'am. I don't know anything about sailing a
boat. I thought you knew how."
"Me? she squealed. "Dwarves don't even like wa-
ter."
"I've noticed that," Tas began. "My friend Flint --
you both remember him?Well, not very long ago, he
had a bit of a boating accident. You see, Caramon --
that's our big fighter friend -- was trying to grab a fish
with his bare hands, and he stood up in the little boat,
and it tipped over, and Flint couldn't swim, and when
Tanis fished him out, he was the most incredible shade
of purple! Flint says it was from lack of air, but I say it
was because he got so mad. It gave him lumbago."
"That's too bad," Woodrow said. "What does he do
for it?
"Flint says it helps to stay away from kender as
much as possible," Tas mumbled reluctantly.
Gisella ignored Tas's story. "How hard can it be,
anyway? You just put this cloth up," she proposed, fin-
gering the white sailcloth wrapped around a stout,
rounded piece of wood that tapered at the ends, "and
then the boat goes where you point it, doesn't it?
Woodrow frowned. "I don't think it's quite that sim-
ple, Miss Hornslager."
"Don't anyone bother asking me if I know how to
sail," Tas said petulantly at the edge of their conversa-
tion.
"Well, do you?" Gisella asked skeptically.
"Of course I do!" he said, delighted to have their full
attention. "I used to sail boats with my Uncle Trap-
springer all the time." Tas skipped happily over to Gi-
sella, looped an arm around the mast, and swung
himself in a half-circle, grinning
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